Page 29 - Vol. VI #10
P. 29

 When We Arrive in Their Town
ca. 1930
broken-down trucks restart ∞ debts are forgiven ∞ every game ends in a tie ∞ shopkeepers shutter their windows bolt their doors lock up their wares ∞ the gas attendant bows to something no one else sees ∞ a door-to-door salesman drops his samples and wanders away ∞ the bus driver sees the clouds part and Busby Berkley dancers ascend and descend a solid gold ladder ∞ bystanders ask Is this anaphora? Can it hold back the storm? Where does blue come from? ∞ dogs run away from their owners ∞ wild animals are seen in places they shouldn’t be: a bear in a diner an elk in the theater ospreys in line at the deli crows in the confessional ∞ fish swim up the drain and into the bathtub ∞ the priest finds feathers under his collar ∞ children are sent home early from school and are seen walking home backwards ∞ there’s a thought that everyone has succumbed to a mass delusion ∞ weeks from now they will speak of the metallic taste in their mouths the sweat rolling down backs the puddles of oil in the road they will say something else followed the procession of trailers but for now they blink at the clouds mating with clouds ∞ a squall breaks ∞ escaping the storm, people get lost for hours ∞ a white mare is seen in the street ∞ everywhere parents come home late, find their children awake, stroking the fox in their beds
 Cross works as an editor in Vermont. Her poems have appeared in elimae and Pedestal, among other publications, and are forthcoming in Monstering.

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